


Perhaps There Will Be No Nightmares Tonight

by PinkToby



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, First Person Will Graham, First Time, Kissing, Loss of Virginity, M/M, also a bit of a character study?, careful!Hannibal, i don't even know it's like 2am and this seemed like a good idea, nervous!virgin!Will, supposed to be sweet and loving and fluffy i guess?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-12
Updated: 2013-10-12
Packaged: 2017-12-29 04:28:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1000886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkToby/pseuds/PinkToby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The tags explain it all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perhaps There Will Be No Nightmares Tonight

* * *

 

When he asks me if I want to, I swallow around the tight ball of nervous that has taken up residence underneath my chin and nod twice.  He asks if I’m sure and I nod again, trying to squeeze the muscles in my chest around my frantic heart so that it might be still, but the thrumming continues to echo between my eardrums and I barely notice the way his ever-tight lips stretch in an honest-to-God smile.

I know he can feel the sweat weeping from my palms as he takes my hand and leads me down the hall.  My feet are clumsy behind him but I manage to keep up with his leisurely pace and _God_ it is a wonder that my legs are able to work at all. 

When the door shuts and we are in his room I have a moment of clarity before his lips are brushing against mine and I nearly _jump_ but his hands are at my shoulders, fisted in my beat-up flannel while my hands find their way to his hips, which are now pressed up against my own. 

The buttons on my shirt are being undone and before I am able to realize, he is asking me if I’ve ever done this before, despite my every reaction telling him that nobody has ever, _ever_ touched me the way he’s touching me now. 

I shake my head and he pulls me close, whispering something about how he’ll be gentle and that he’ll stop if I ask him to but I am unable to be calmed I wish he would just _get on with it and touch me already_ so that my limps might stop shaking with nervous anticipation.  My shirt gapes open and suddenly it is being pushed from my shoulders and those lips— _oh, those lips!—_ are ravishing my neck in such a way to make me gasp with the sheer intimacy of the moment.  Two hands grasp at my back and I can’t help but throw my arms around him because as far as I’m concerned, we will _never ever ever_ be touching enough.

I am guided backwards until I run into the bed.  He bids me sit down, and I comply, reaching down to remove my beat-up shoes and socks while he begins to undress.  By the time I look up, his suit has been discarded and he now stands nude and seemingly unashamed and _oh my God this is really happening._   His hands reach for my jeans and he asks if he can remove them, and I am all-too-willing to go along with it.

Thank God the lights aren’t on because I can _feel_ the blush creeping up my underwear is being pulled from my legs.  He tells me that I am beautiful, as he hovers over me and begins kissing me again in earnest instead of letting me respond, and for a second, I believe him.  How can a man whose touch feels _so damn good_ be wrong, especially when his fingers are threaded through my tangled hair and running down my stomach until— _oh, God!_  

He strokes me gently, slowly even, and I am suddenly very aware of his nakedness in the form of strong thighs and a taut waist.  He whispers meaningless little endearments in my ear between my breathy sighs and I pull him closer so that our chests might bump against one another with every panting breath.  I let my hands grasp at his back and I hear an inkling of a growl that is both terrifying and infinitely arousing.

When he pulls away, I am lost, but it is not long until I hear a plastic-y snap and he is back, although less insistent.  I look up to see him kneeling between my splayed-open thighs, hand inching closer until I feel the cool slide of fingers against my entrance and I realize that he is preparing me.  I shiver against him as he slides a finger inside of me, my ears ringing with half-whispered words of comfort.

It is painful when he breaches me, even with plenty of lubrication and the gentleness of his touch, and I grit my teeth as he apologizes for hurting me and swallows my whimpers with a hungry mouth, all the while still pushing forward until he is unable to go any further.  When I look up, he is smiling, hair mussed and _so goddamn beautiful it hurts_.

The pain lessens with every gentle thrust of his hips and before long, I begin to feel the bloom of pleasure deep in my belly.  I urge him on with please’s and harder’s, and he complies immediately.  Our vocalizations begin to synchronize along with the motion of our hips, and, _oh God this is becoming to good please don’t stop I’m—_

We must reach our climax around the same time, him with a guttural groan and me with God-knows-what sound coming out of my throat, and he holds me as I shudder with aftershocks.  He tells me how well I did as he cleans my release from my stomach, and makes triple-y sure that I am unhurt and satisfied. 

My eyes are drooping shut but I am awake enough to gravitate towards him and lay my head on his chest, which has become slick with sweat—mostly his, but somewhat mine—and listen to the slow thudding of his heart.

 

Perhaps I will not have nightmares tonight.   

  


End file.
